


Koi No Yokan: Secret Strawberries

by GhostOfTasslehoff, ZombieJesus



Series: Koi No Yokan [2]
Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Gen, Origin Stories, Side Story, recruiting Wedy, secret strawberries for Koi No Yokan, sticky situations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23055742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostOfTasslehoff/pseuds/GhostOfTasslehoff, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieJesus/pseuds/ZombieJesus
Summary: Character backstories and elaborations on past events that were mentioned in our fic ‘Koi No Yokan.’ However, no prior knowledge of Koi is needed to enjoy the stories, which stand alone.1: How the art thief Merrie Kenwood (Wedy) came to meet and be recruited by L
Series: Koi No Yokan [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729663
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Koi No Yokan: Secret Strawberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did the great art thief Merrie Kenwood come to be in the employ of L?

“Merrie Kenwood.”

Merrie’s head jerked up from where it had been laying on the (rather uncomfortable) bed in her makeshift cell, her light doze broken by the soft voice coming from beyond the bars. If she hadn’t imagined the voice, it _certainly_ wasn’t any of the men who had kidnapped her from her hotel room, she would have recognized their voices easily. _Especially_ the man in charge, he’d had a deceptively grandfatherly air about him that was belied by his utterly thorough search of her person. That body scanner had found every single item she could have _possibly_ used as a weapon (or a crude lockpick) before the man had tossed her into this cell. _How long have I been locked in here?_ She hadn’t seen any visitors, and the only reason she _knew_ anyone had been to see her at all was because every time she woke up, there was food and water outside of her cell. In fact, up to now, she had thought that she would be left to _rot_ here. Was this really a break in the pattern, or was she going crazy?

“Who’s there?” she called, squinting into the bright light outside the bars, and rather surprised to see that there _was,_ in fact, a tall, rumpled figure silhouetted by the light outside of her cell. “Who are you? What are you going to _do_ with me?”

Instead of answering, a soft, melodic male voice issued from the shadowy figure, tone matter-of-fact. “Merrie Kenwood. Twenty four years old, and the second daughter of the Kenwood estate. Father, business tycoon, mother runs a prestigious art house out of New York City.”

_Is this a ransom situation?_ Merrie thought, inwardly panicking as she sat up straight, clutching at the thin mattress. Her voice was cool, haughty, as she quipped, “Well, it’s certainly nice to see you know how to work _Google_.”

The shadow shifted, and a note of amusement slipped into the voice. “Miss Kenwood, you are responsible for a string of art and jewelry thefts up and down the eastern seaboard.”

“Thefts? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. And what makes you think _I_ had anything to do with these alleged thefts?” Merrie asked, rolling her eyes and shifting to lay on her back. She fake yawned, as if bored, and stretched out lithely on the bed while smirking slightly to herself. _You couldn’t possibly have any proof._ She was certainly not above using flirtation or seduction to get out of a tight spot, and while she had been in more dangerous situations than this before, she wanted _out_ of this cell. And men were such slaves to their hormones half the time, in her experience, that it was almost sad how many times this tactic had worked for her.

The man sighed and reached out to hit a switch, plunging the entire area into pitch darkness. “Please refrain from using such crude tactics, Miss Kenwood, they won’t work on me,” he said tonelessly. 

Merrie yelped before a bare bulb in her cell flickered on, causing her to throw her hands up to shield her eyes. She could do nothing but stare at him, perplexed. Whoever this guy was, he appeared to be startlingly _young_ , with wild, dark hair and wide eyes in a face so pale that he seemed almost ghostly. The rumpled white shirt he wore did absolutely _nothing_ to help his complexion, and the dark circles under his eyes just made his staring that much _more_ unsettling. _Has he even hit puberty yet? How OLD is this kid?!_ she thought, pushing herself back up to sit as she studied him. “Who _are_ you?” she asked again, this time more insistent, a note of worry entering her voice.

“Perhaps the more pertinent question is how was I able to catch you,” the young man said gently, shoving both hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans and staring at her unblinkingly. “After all, you left no clues to your identity at any of the crime scenes, you managed to evade all security personnel, and every establishment you’ve hit had their security systems completely deactivated for the duration of the heist. You’re a true professional, Miss Kenwood. I must say, you’ve impressed me.” He tilted his head, lips slowly quirking into a smile. “Still, you weren’t _quite_ as good as you think.”

_That_ pissed her off. _This smug little brat._ “You can’t keep me here when I haven’t _done_ anything wrong,” Merrie began, rising from the bed and striding forward to glare at him through the bars. “This is against the _law_ , and I know my rights as an American citizen. I am entitled to a phone call.” She smiled smugly at him before adding, “When I get out of here, my father’s lawyers are going to eat you for _breakfast_ , little boy.”

The man blinked down at her and, much to her surprise, began _giggling_.

She blinked, feeling a small fissure of fear for the first time in her career. _Ugh, how did this weirdo catch me?_

He never took his eyes off her, just _stared_ before holding up one finger. “Observe.” He reached into his back pocket and took out a short stack of folded papers, smoothing them out before holding them up for her to see, the corners pinched between his thumbs and forefingers. The first paper turned out to have an enlarged, grainy picture of her in sunglasses and her favorite hat, buying a ticket at the first museum she had hit in her most recent string, merely two days before the heist had been planned.

Her blood ran cold, though she tried to play it off, shrugging and narrowing her eyes up at the young man. “What the hell is _this?_ So you’ve got a picture of me at a museum. I didn’t realize art appreciation was a _crime_ , now.” _That still doesn’t prove anything._

Another giggle left the man, and the corners of his mouth lifted even more as he repeated brightly, “Observe.” He tugged the first page away, dropping it on the floor. The second picture showed her just _barely_ in frame at another museum that had been hit, before fluttering to join the first. Her mouth twitched nervously upon seeing the security images of her at various museums, jewelry shops, and other places of business around her targets, sometimes mere _hours_ before they’d been hit, all with her in various hairstyles and outfits, sometimes barely recognizable. Half the time she was barely in the frame, which made sense, because she had been actively attempting to avoid the cameras. But none of the pictures accounted for the last five places she’d hit. She could still talk her way out of this if she was careful.

“ _This_ is your evidence? Looks like a nice set of coincidences to me, as well as a fair bit of stalking.” Merrie said, laughing in his face. She tossed her hair over one shoulder before shifting into a casually dismissive stance, smirking up at him. “I hate to break it to you, darling, but being a patron of the arts is in my blood. Whatever _this_ is _-_ ” Gesturing to the pictures littering the floor at his feet, she paused for a moment, horrified to see that the man was _barefoot_. “... Whatever you’re trying to prove here, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Fixing her gaze back on his face, she gave him her most dazzling smile and added in a sickly sweet voice, “I want to speak to my lawyer. _Now._ ” The young man looked distressingly unperturbed by her words, staring at her silently for long enough that she waved her hand in his face. “Hel-looooo, earth to kidnapper! Phone call?”

“We caught you red-handed disabling the security system at the Guggenheim.”

Merrie’s breath caught at that, and then she burst out laughing. “That’s impos-”

“Miss Kenwood.” The man pulled out a second stack of papers from his _other_ back pocket, smoothing them out and holding them up in front of her, not smiling now as he said blankly, “Observe.” _This_ set of photos showed her on camera at the last _three_ locations she’d robbed, in various stages of the robberies _including_ multiple pictures of her with the stolen paintings, her face visible enough to match the other images. And sure enough, the last one he showed her was an image of her disabling the Guggenheim’s security system. Her heart sank as she realized that this was _it_ ; how had this _kid_ managed to catch her?

“Who the hell _are_ you?” Merrie finally whispered, staring down at the pile of pictures before raising her gaze to the young man staring at her, empty handed and expectant now. She was the _best_ at what she did, dammit, and had never gotten caught… but this _kid_ had somehow managed to get _pictures_ of her in the act. “How did you-”

“I deduced from your pattern of targets the places you were most likely to hit next,” the young man said, rubbing one foot against his jeans before shifting. One hand drifted up to scratch at the back of his head, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “I set up my own security cameras at each location. The _modus operandi_ you used at the last three locations matched the others, so I felt it pertinent to instruct my team to… _acquire_ you while we searched for the stolen art.” He paused, “You didn’t have time to deliver the last one to your employer. It has yet to be returned to the Guggenheim.” The implication of _until I decide what to do with you_ hung in the air, and her eyes filled with tears involuntarily.

_But I was so careful_. Merrie’s grip tightened on the bars as she asked in a soft, resigned voice, “And what are you going to do with me now that you’ve made your point?” She knew what would happen if this information became public. _No-one will ever hire me again, and I’ll have to hope my family won’t disown me. Shit._ She had just wanted to be able to live her life without being tied to something _normal_.

The beaming smile that split the man’s face caught her by surprise, and his words left her speechless. “I wish to procure your expertise in stealth and surveillance for my future cases.”

Gaping, Merrie asked reflexively, “What do you _mean_ , ‘procure my expertise’? _What_ cases?” _Who the fuck IS this guy?!_

“I am the detective known as L.” The smile never left his face. “I would hate to see your talents go to waste.”

_Oh shit, I’ve heard of him,_ Merrie thought, shaking her head dazedly and taking a step back. “ _The_ L? Are you even old enough to _drive_?” The immediate insult made her wince, sure he was going to take the offer back after all. 

“I’m nineteen.” L rolled his eyes slightly at her.

How could she know this was really L? Everyone knew that L only took cases with a body count _and_ a fat payday. “Art theft is a little _outside_ your normal wheelhouse, isn’t it?”

“I never take cases like this, true.” L gave her a tiny smirk. “However, one of your targets happened to be a piece from my favorite artist.” The smirk faded into a petulant scowl. “I’m not normally one for art appreciation, but I like to pop into art galleries that display Frederic Church’s work when I have time. Now, I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I arrived at the Smithsonian several months ago to find that the Aurora Borealis wasn’t in it’s customary place. I don’t believe the guards were happy with me making such a fuss over the missing artwork…” In fact, Watari had been prompted to make a very _large_ donation to the museum to smooth things over. Snorting, he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “But I am _quite_ happy to tell you that while I detained you here, we were able to retrieve the painting and send it back to the Smithsonian.” 

_That one?!_ Yes, she knew the painting L was talking about. It had been enormous and no easy feat to steal. “You’re telling me you decided to take me down because I stole your favorite painting of _some ice and boat_?!”

L gave her an unamused look. “Isn’t your _mother_ an art dealer?”

Wedy snorted and scoffed back, “I like modern art.” 

“Whatever. _I_ like landscapes.” L brought a thumb up to his mouth, unable to hide the smile playing at his lips. “Now. Do you want to work for me or shall I share my findings with the American police?”

Merrie stared hard at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “Well, when you put it like _that_ …” On the one hand, she could say _no_ and possibly end up in jail, and maybe get parole in a handful of years, but she would most _definitely_ be ostracized and disowned. On the other hand, she could go to work for the most powerful detective in the world, doing what she was best at, even if he was a strange fellow. Finally, she smiled at him, reaching a hand out between the bars. “I’m in.” She squeezed his hand slightly, adding, “On a _trial_ basis.”

“Excellent.” L smiled and closed his fingers around hers briefly before tugging a key out of his pocket. “I’m sure you’ll prefer this trial to the other kind.”

“ _That_ I can be sure of.” She pulled her hand back to flip her hair. “But I’m not working for free, mister _L_. Duress or not, I know the value of my specialized _expertise_.”

“Your starting salary can be negotiated.” L glanced up at her and gave her a big smile. “Perhaps over breakfast. I haven’t eaten yet, and I’m sure you’d like something _other_ than the boring food you’ve been getting. What shall I call you moving forward? Everyone uses an alias on my team.”

She laughed, eyes trained on the key as it went into the lock; she was _dying_ to have a decent cup of espresso. “I’ve always liked the name Wendy, like from Peter Pan.” L seemed like a mischievous Pan ready to spirit her away off to an odd world only he inhabited, but could show her. “But maybe make it a little more… unique.”

“Oh, would you like me to sprinkle some fairy dust on you and teach you to fly?” L snickered and stepped back, tugging open the door and dropping into an awkward little bow like a Lost Boy. “How about… Wedy?”

Merrie mouthed the name, smiling after a moment. “Perfect.” She breezed past him, looking for a decent set of clothes. “But just don’t tell me you never grew up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The painting that started it all: https://americanart.si.edu/artwork/aurora-borealis-4806

**Author's Note:**

> If you like these and haven't read Koi No Yokan yet, the first chapter is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651402/chapters/41626025)!
> 
> Check us out on Tumblr!  
> ZJ: [kiranatrix](https://kiranatrix.tumblr.com/)  
> Ghost: [GhostOfTasslehoff](https://ghostoftasslehoff.tumblr.com/)


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